Heaven Can't Help Me Now (Wildest Dreams)
by orangeyouglad8
Summary: Brittana. A/U. "You don't say anything but you know she knows you're looking. She knows you caught on to her presence." One Shot.


You can tell she's bad news just from the way she moves through the crowd.

She doesn't move at all, she glides.

She parts the crowd with her aura.

Not once does she get bumped or shoved or stopped. She just oozes through like air.

You're standing by the bar when you see her, she slides through the room like a lion on the prowl. She's all blonde hair and blue eyes and legs, legs, legs.

Yeah, she's bad news.

And you can't take your eyes off of her.

She's tall. So tall.

And beautiful. More beautiful than you've seen in a while.

Beautiful as hell.

She catches your eye across the room and you can see the sparkle. The smirk. The smoldering eye contact even as two guys drool over her at the table.

The cheeky understanding that she knows you'll be under her tonight, and you know it too.

You can already see the end before you've even spoken a word to her.

The wedding around you two rages on, the music, the people, the alcohol, but it's as if time stops and it's just the two of you. It's just you and her caught in this little game, this spiral.

You down your drink and turn to walk out the balcony overlooking the plaza, hoping to clear your head but knowing it is a lost cause. The sun has just started to set and you can see the bride and groom, your friends, out in the courtyard posing for more pictures. A gaggle of smokers stands off to the side, laughing and sharing jokes in the strange sort of camaraderie only found by those chasing a nicotine rush.

You feel her before anything. Something inside of you shifts and you can sense her presence. You turn your head to the left and she's there, a few feet away from you, leaning over the balcony watching the sun light up the sky in violets, pinks, oranges, as it bids farewell for another night.

You don't say anything but you know she knows you're looking. She knows you caught on to her presence.

And you stay there, locked with her in a quiet dance. Both not wanting to break the spell. Both understanding that this is a spell, a trance.

She stands up and finally turns to look at you. You can see the way her eyes smolder, the blue turning to indigo, the turning of the sea. She smiles. Her pink lips (so pink) spread over her white (so white) teeth. "It's Brittany."

She catches you off guard. "Huh?"

"It's Brittany. My name." her voice is so confident, so smooth, and you're flustered. She caught you and your normal swag is thrown off.

"Oh."

Damn it.

"It's polite to introduce yourself as well, you know. Customary, even." She takes a step closer to you and your whole being buzzes. You can't stop looking at her lips. Wondering what they would look like with your red lipstick all over them, tracing a path to her neck.

"Santana." You barely eek it out. She smiles again, lighter this time.

"Santana. Beautiful." She's smooth. So smooth. Such bad news. But you can't help the chill that creeps down your spine when your name rolls off her tongue.

She grins like the Cheshire cat and spins around, gliding back to the party.

And you can't breathe.

**Xx**

Your back is pressed firmly against the wall of the elevator, a lithe frame melting against your front, a talented tongue working magic in your mouth.

She's kissing you. She's kissing you and trying to get your body as close to hers as possible. She's gripping your hair and tilting your head.

And you're moaning into her mouth. Unabashedly. Freely. Wantonly.

You want this. You want her.

Bad news and all you want her. You want her in your room, in your bed, in you.

She was teasing you all night. Little glances, flirty winks, smoldering eye contact. Soft touches, accidental brushes on the dance floor, a brazen hand on your waist guiding you to dance with her.

Dancing with her was like sex.

You wonder if the actual sex will kill you.

All night while everyone drooled over her, flirted with her, tried to make a play for her, she was watching you, flirting with you, trying to make a play for you.

And it worked.

And you don't even care that you're a cliché, hooking up with a bridesmaid at a wedding. Stealing her away from the groomsman who thought he'd be getting lucky, getting into her dress.

You buzz with a sense of pride at that, the look on his face when she pulled you away from the dance floor, a coy look over her shoulder as she led you to the exit. A smile and small wave at the poor groomsman left gaping like a trout.

At least he'd have something hot to think about when he jerked it later.

Because it is hot. She's hot.

And she's pressing into you, her knee where you want it, moving in time with her rolling body. And it's almost enough to get you off, the whole idea of it. The picture of you two going at it in the hotel elevator where anyone could walk in, where the security guard is probably drooling at his monitor station.

Your hand grips her ass and guides her and you hear her moan into your skin, feel nips on your pulse point.

And just when you think you're going to explode, the door dings open signaling your floor and she pulls away from you as swift as a fox and slides out of the elevator, wiping the corner of her mouth, leaving you gasping for air against the back of the elevator.

She stands there staring at you, smirking with pleasure, her eyes roaming down your body, landing at your cleavage. "Well, are you coming?" her head tilts and her voice sounds innocent, but the look in her eyes is anything but.

She walks away and all you can do is whisper, "God willing." to no one.

And she's there in the hall, your key in her hand, waiting for you. Leaning up against the door and watching you walk towards your room, her eyes shamelessly studying your body. You put some extra sway in your hips and enjoy the way you can see it affect her. As you get closer she turns and unlocks the door, sliding inside before you get there and attacking you with her mouth as soon as you cross the threshold.

It's all teeth and tongue, need.

And you both moan as she presses you against the door, sliding the deadbolt, before lifting you up, wrapping your legs around her small waist.

And you almost die right there.

She carries you over to the bed and instead of throwing you down, falls down with you, rolls into you. And her hands are everywhere, and her scent is everywhere, and her little noises are driving you crazy.

You make quick work of the zipper on the back of her dress and hear her groan of approval as you slowly slide it down. Her nips on your collarbone a reward.

Her back is naked under her dress and you shudder as your hand is met with skin, skin, skin.

She sits up and pulls the garment off of her, tossing it to the side and watching the way your eyes land on her, study her. She's sexier than you could have ever imagined a lace thong the same shade as her dress the only thing on her body.

Her eyes are dark, dark, dark.

And then she's leaning down again, kissing you softly, passionately, rolling you over on top of her so she can find your zipper.

And then she does, and you're sliding out of your dress and it's her eyes roving over you. Her hands brushing gently along your stomach, up, up, up. Your hands reaching around and unhooking your strapless bra, her breath coming out in a gasp once it's on the floor.

When she touches you, you feel like your whole body will catch on fire. The sparks she sends through you scare you in the best possible way. The goose bumps rising on your skin, the rush of air you let out, it all feels like too much and not enough.

And then her hands are in your hair, pulling you down, pulling you into her. And you succumb. You don't want to be anywhere else.

The way she kisses you makes you feel like the only person on earth.

And then she's everywhere again, and you're on your back, naked, and she's thrusting into you, using her hips as leverage as her fingers glide into you.

Oh, how they glide.

And curve.

And swirl.

And you come twice before you even realize it and she's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Somehow you flip her over and slide down her body, wanting to taste her, needing to taste her. She's ready for you, dripping, and she tastes like heaven.

And you get her to scream quickly.

And you slide your fingers inside and work her up again, moving and kissing up her body, needing to look in those blue eyes when she breaks again.

Your red lipstick is all over her body, marking her, branding her. It sends a shiver through you and you rut along her thigh.

She groans as she tastes herself on your mouth, kissing your face, your cheeks, cleaning you off as you take her higher and higher.

It's never been like this with anyone before.

Ever.

And you don't even know her.

But you feel like you've known her forever.

**Xx**

You lie there, staring at her staring at you. Your fingers brush along her arm, hers scratch the back of your head.

It's quiet. You don't speak.

You just trade lazy smiles and lazy kisses back and forth.

And somewhere, somehow you drift off to sleep.

And when you wake up she's gone.

You knew she would be, but it doesn't hurt any less.

**Xx**

You see her again, three months later.

Another friend, another wedding. Except this time you're the bridesmaid.

You don't expect to see her, but her eyes find yours as you're walking down the aisle. You feel your heartbeat pick up and your face flash with heat.

You're glad you're wearing red. Red is really your color. You know you look good. You sway your hips a little more, wanting her to see what she's missing out on.

You don't miss the way her eyes rove up and down and up again. Lingering on your cleavage, your lips.

Turning dark, dark, dark blue.

You don't know if you'll give her the time of day. She didn't leave a note or a number or even her last name. She just left.

But the things she woke up inside of you haven't gone anywhere.

**Xx**

She finds you at the reception, a twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her face. She doesn't look remorseful at all.

She's still bad news.

She reaches out and touches one of the soft curls hanging down around your face. So familiar. So intimate.

"Red looks really great on you."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

"I'm glad I ran into you again."

"Oh, yeah?"

Her eyes do that thing again, up-down-up, and she licks her lips. Subtle, real subtle. "Yeah."

You see another tall blonde shooting daggers your way. "I don't know if your date would agree."

Her brow furrows with confusion. She spins around, "Oh, don't worry about her."

No denial. You can't do this. "It was nice to see you again, Brittany." You back away from her and turn towards the dance floor.

**Xx**

You're checking your makeup in the bathroom, needing a breather from all the wedding hubbub and the feel of her eyes on you.

You can feel them all the time and you don't know if you like what it does to you, the way your heart speeds up and your stomach swoops.

The door to the bathroom opens and she slides in. She looks up and finds your eyes and smiles. It's more genuine than before, like the ones you shared that night before you fell asleep. Before she left.

She moves over to where you're standing, never taking her eyes from yours. Her pinky touches yours on the counter and your body is alight.

And you're kissing her before you can even think about it, question it.

And the way her lips taste and the way her tongue moves with yours makes you see stars.

And you don't know why you were fighting it.

You pull away from her, gasping for air. Her eyes are so blue.

"Don't…" her voice is husky with lust.

"I asked about you. They say you're a ladykiller."

"People like to talk."

Another kiss.

"Everyone thinks I'm crazy."

"Crazy can be fun."

And another.

You can't think. Your arguments are all gone, out the window.

"Do you want this?" Her voice in your ear, so close, so familiar.

"What about your date?"

She laughs, "My cousin. One of my best friends."

"She looked like she wanted to kill me."

She kisses you again, before she answers. You don't let her deepen it, you need to hear what she has to say. Your lips pop when you pull apart, and she smirks. "She's pissed that I keep bringing her to these things and then finding someone to dance with. I don't think she got the memo that you're supposed to find people to hook up with at weddings."

Her words sting even though they shouldn't.

"Is that what this is?"

"I don't know." And her face looks so genuine, and a flash of something crosses her eyes, and you know it's true. That she doesn't know.

And you're not sure if you can care anymore. Her hands circle around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

And the mixture of her perfume and her scent overwhelms you.

"No one has to know what we do." Your voice sounds foreign, even to you.

And you kiss her again. Deeper than before. Pouring all of your want into her.

**Xx**

You're in the elevator before you know it. Its different this time, you're not kissing yet. You're barely touching. But the air in the little box is thick, palpable. Your heart beats quicker with each ding, your floor only a couple away.

You can tell she's looking at you. You can feel it. You see her in your periphery, bouncing on her toes.

She wants this.

You take her hand in yours and lead her down the hallway, to your room. Her shyness seems to disappear and she twists you around in a kiss.

And then you're kissing and giggling all the way down the hall, bouncing off doors left and right.

She grabs the keycard from you and unlocks the door, ushering you inside.

Everything is different this time.

She goes slower, kissing every inch of skin she can find, peeling away layer after layer.

Her fingers brush over you like water, like air.

She moves into you slowly, rolling and rolling.

You didn't think it would feel any better than before, but you were wrong. So wrong.

And just as you're about to fall asleep, wondering if she'll be gone again in the morning, you look up and find her eyes.

Still so blue.

"What's your last name?"

She doesn't even hesitate, "Pierce."

Her smile makes you blush.

She pulls you down for a kiss. Then another. And another. And you start giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"Just… nothing." It's the truth. You don't know. You just feel…everything.

"So is it just Santana then? Like Madonna and Beyonce."

"Yup. My parents knew I'd be in their echelon when I was born, didn't even bother with anything else."

It's her turn to laugh now. And the way she caresses the side of your face as she grins makes something clang inside of you.

You stare at her for a second. Two. Three. "Lopez."

"Hi Santana Lopez."

"Hello Brittany Pierce."

**Xx**

Something warm is lying across your stomach, pulling you from your dreams. You turn over and find Brittany. Still here.

Still asleep.

Your heart beats, beats, beats.

And you have to kiss her.

Because even if she didn't mean to, she stayed. And even if she wants to leave, you need her again.

You can't watch her go. It'll hurt too much.

She hums into your kisses and her lips move against yours. You can feel her smile as she slides on top of you.

And you're belly to belly, breast to breast and it feels better than any dream.

And she arranges your legs and you grind together.

Slide.

Move.

Dance.

And every time she breaks you it feels better than the last. Better than you ever thought it could.

And when you're trying to catch your breath, feeling her chest rise and fall on top of yours, you have to know.

"Do you have to leave?"

She kisses your neck, nips. "Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup." And the way her breath falls across your ear, the way her voice sounds, you know she's speaking the truth. "Let's get out of the city, away from the crowd."

Her eyes so clear. Like the ocean in the tropics. You feel like you can see right through her.

"Ok. Where?"

She shrugs, "Anywhere. I'm not ready for this weekend to be over yet. I want to get to know you, I just want to drive with you."

And you know she feels the same way, the same big, crazy, inexplicable pull inside.

You smile so big you feel like your face will split.

**Xx**

You spend the rest of your weekend and the following Monday at a small inn in the Catskills.

You barely leave the room.

She makes you feel things you never knew you could feel.

And you talk about little things.

And you talk about big things.

And it starts to feel more like love than anything ever has before.

And when you get back to the city there's something in her eyes. A faraway look.

She kisses you when she drops you off. It's deep, full, intense.

It feels like everything.

It feels like goodbye.

You feel the wistfulness sink in. The heartbreak.

And you know.

You know she won't call. You know that this was it.

The spell is broken.

And you hope she'll remember you. Dream about you.

Because you know that she'll haunt you forever.

**Xx**

No one comes close.

It takes you months to date anyone. And when you finally sleep with her it feels like a betrayal.

It feels fake.

And you can't bring yourself to do it again.

She's lovely, and nice. Beautiful and mature. Good. She's good for you.

But it doesn't matter.

You want _her_. Your mind wants safe. But your heart, your heart rules.

And your dreams are still haunted by blue eyes. Mountains and the ocean.

You think you see her everywhere. On the subway. Across the street. Ahead of you in the crowd.

It's never her. Your heart always picks up and your stomach always swoops but it's never her.

No one moves like her, glides.

And you don't know why. You don't know why you feel like you're missing a part of yourself. You had two encounters with her.

Two encounters and one blissful weekend.

You don't really even know anything about her. You know her name, her favorite color, that she has a fat cat named Lord Tubbington. That she's a dancer, that she got a full scholarship to MIT after perfect SAT scores but passed it up not wanting to turn into a "math monkey" whatever that is. You know that she loves to eat breadsticks, dots, and chocolate sauce off your body. That her laugh is like the sun.

But you don't know her.

Except that you do.

You know what her heart sounds like.

You know what her eyes look like when they look at you.

You know what noises she makes when she's about to come.

You know that you'll never find anyone else like her again.

But, she has your number. She knows where you live.

And she's nowhere to be found.

Everyone thinks you're crazy, that you've lost it. Tell you that she was bad news from the beginning, never seems to settle down. Can't believe that you went away with her after the second time you even met her.

But you just knew. You could feel it, that magic.

You didn't care that it was crazy. You needed to do it. You needed to be with her. You don't regret it, not a single moment. Because even though you're heartbroken now, you felt what it was like.

It was ephemeral and fleeting, but solid and life changing.

Real love.

**Xx**

Your friends are dragging you to this party. This big, over the top, ridiculous first Anniversary party.

You actually can't believe it, that they made it one year and also that they're choosing to celebrate in the cheesiest way possible.

You've rolled your eyes so many times in the past week you don't know how they're still in your head. There are hugs and smiles and glasses of champagne everywhere. You've never been touchy feely, and you're not about to start. When they clink glasses and announce to everyone that they're expecting, you almost spit out your drink. Because, really, how are you friends with these people.

You feel a presence next to you at the bar and you turn your head. It's some douche in a $3000 suit.

Fuck.

"No hot date tonight?"

"Who said that?"

He waggles his eyebrows, "I've been watching you. Care for another drink?"

"I'm good thanks. Already ordered."

He moves closer, touches your arm. "Wanna take the party somewhere else?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Unless you're packing a pussy in those pants, I'm 100% positive."

It feels good, the way he gapes at you. How he didn't get the message you'll never know. You spin around to leave, a new glass of whiskey in your hand when you hit something solid.

Something that goes "Ooof!"

Something that you could pinpoint in an instant.

Fuck. Again.

You look up and see blue, blue, blue.

How did you forget how blue her eyes were? You see them every night in your dreams and yet, so blue.

"Hi." Soft.

"Um, hi… Sorry."

"Are you ok?"

You clear your throat. No. "Yeah…fine."

You can feel two sets of eyes on you. Douchebag's and Brittany's. You're stuck.

"Santana… can we talk?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

She smiles at you. It's somber, sad.

You don't want to see it. You want sunshine, happiness.

"Ok." She steps back and lets you go. And somehow your feet aren't rooted to the spot anymore.

And you walk away, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

**Xx**

You see her again at the baby shower.

It's been two months since you bumped into her and you're still not over it. You're still tossing and turning, trying to quiet the questions in your mind.

She walks in and you can feel the air shift.

She finds you, tucked away in a corner waiting for the upstairs bathroom.

She smirks.

You hate what it does to you.

And when the bathroom is empty and the coast is clear she pulls you inside, locking the door behind you.

And her body is against yours and her hands are in your hair and her tongue is down your throat.

And you groan.

And it feels so good.

You've missed this.

And her fingers sneak under your skirt, under your lace, into you.

And you gasp and cry out, letting her fill you.

Letting her break you.

You need her.

You want her.

And the tears come before you can stop them.

And her name falls from your lips.

And her eyes meet yours as she watches you, watches you come.

And then she's kissing you again, hot, fierce. Like she can't get enough of you. Like she doesn't want to ever let you go. Her hands on your face, your own stickiness rubbing off on your cheek.

And you can't stop.

You can't stop kissing her. Loving her.

You can't stop the tears from falling down your face.

And you push her away and slide out the door before she can even say your name again.

You fly down the stairs and out the door and run all the way home.

**Xx**

You don't get out of bed for three days.

You call in sick to work and then you turn your phone off.

Someone pounding on the door wakes you from your slumber. You don't want to answer it but you have to. It's not stopping. And now your friends are calling you from the hall. They're worried about you. You left the shower without saying one word. Your phone is off. You'd be worried too.

You open the door to find three angry faces staring back at you, but they all soften when they see the state you're in. Before you know it ice cream is being shoved in your face and whiskey is being opened and your heart is being picked up off the floor.

They get it. And you should have come to them sooner.

**Xx**

Another summer weekend, another wedding.

This time you're not in it, and you're not alone.

Ok, so you didn't really bring a date, just a friend, but no one here needs to know that. You've got your swag back and you're looking.

There are two weddings going on at the same hotel in the Hamptons this weekend, just like at every hotel in the Hamptons this weekend. This one is swanky, though. Black tie. Your friend is dying over the food and you're so glad you brought her.

The slit in your dress and the low back is causing quite a few heads to turn and you're feeling pretty good indeed.

The party rages on all night. Black tie does not equal formal behavior, no matter what anyone says. This is probably one of the rowdiest weddings you've ever been to. You retreat to the giant, shared balcony to get some fresh air, and to maybe follow a very delectable redhead to see if she's really giving you the eyes or not. You can always pick up on the eyes.

The sky is clear and the stars are bright. The ocean crashes beneath you, so close and yet all you can see is black, black, black.

You hear her before you see her.

A laugh.

It sends the long dormant butterflies in your stomach into a tizzy.

You may have been back in the game for a while now, but the butterflies, the butterflies had still been absent.

You take a deep breath before you turn around. You find her there, her hair up off her neck, her dress royal blue, a silver chain dangling between her perfect breasts.

And you can't breathe.

And the redhead is all but forgotten.

And you know you're staring.

And you don't know if you care.

She turns, catches your eye. You can see her gasp.

You step closer, leaning over the balcony. Quietly inviting her to join you.

You feel her. Her pinky finger brushes against yours. You hear her take a deep breath.

"Santana." Hushed, quiet, barely even spoken.

"Hey Britt." The nickname rolls off your tongue and when you turn to face her, you see the hint of a smile on her lips.

She's pleased.

"How are you?"

"Good. I'm good."

"Good."

Her eyes look cloudy.

Remorse.

You feel heavy looking at her.

She smirks again, more to herself than anything. "You know what I find myself thinking about? Like, all the time?"

"What?"

"The way you looked that first night. How beautiful you looked as you watched the sunset. That nice, sexy dress. Those red lips. The way the sunset reflected off of you, your hair."

Her eyes are focused out towards the water at first, but as she finishes her thought they find yours.

And you can see it.

Everything.

And your heart beats, beats, beats.

And you don't know if you'll ever stop feeling this way.

If she'll ever not affect you like this.

"Brittany…"

"No, Santana." She holds your gaze, reaches out and wanting to touch you, but not allowing herself to, "I was stupid. So, so stupid. And so, so scared."

You see it, the way her face changes. The way she's opening her heart for you.

"I thought I just wanted sex. Casual. A hook up. Seeing you again at that other wedding, walking down the aisle in that red dress felt like winning the lottery. I couldn't wait to get my hands on you again… But you, you did something to me. I had never felt like that before. Ever."

"Me either." The confession oozes out of you, soft, like an exhale.

And now she squeezes your hand.

"And then when we went away for that weekend it was like you became a part of me but it was all happening so quick. Too quick. It felt like love. It stopped feeling like just sex… it stopped feeling like just sex that first night, even. But the Catskills…the Catskills felt real. And when I looked at you I saw my whole life, my whole future in front of me…and I couldn't," her voice cracks. She stops and looks down, bashful, ashamed. "I couldn't have you like that. Not yet. I wasn't worthy of it. Of you."

"Britt… It scared me, too. So much."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." A deep breath, "It still does."

"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for fucking this up."

"You didn't."

"Yes, I did, Santana. I can admit that much."

A step closer to her, you're drawn to her. Wanting to ease the heartache in her eyes.

"I wanted to explain, I was going to explain at that damn anniversary party but you looked like you had seen a ghost and it hurt too much. I couldn't do it. I chickened out."

You want to reach out and brush a blonde tendril off her face, but you don't.

"That day at the baby shower…fuck, Santana. I never meant to make you feel like that. But I had to kiss you again. I couldn't breathe the same air as you and not kiss you, not taste you again."

You can see the tears start forming, her lip quivering.

"That was the day I knew. Really knew, how much I loved you. That I wouldn't be able to live without you."

"You never called."

"I couldn't. The way you looked at me, the way your tears burned into my memory, I couldn't. I had to let you go. I knew I had to set you free, let you find someone who could give you the moon, the stars, anything and everything you could ever want."

And it's then that your heart breaks for her.

Because you understand.

You understand that she was hurting just as much as you. That she was feeling just as much as you.

"Britt, why did you let me go the first time?"

"I wasn't good for you, Santana."

"I never said I needed good."

She shrugs.

And she's still bad news. But she feels like different bad news.

"I haven't been able to take my mind off you, S. I haven't been able to sleep without seeing your face, your eyes, hear the way your voice rasps and husks, the feel of your lips. I haven't been able to even look at another girl…"

She's so open and vulnerable and your resolve cracks. Your heart, your soul, your being wants her. Needs her.

"You've been bad news from day one, Brittany Pierce." You smirk, and step closer. You can feel her breath on your face. Your heels and her sandals evening out your height difference.

And her eyes finally lighten, the twinkle you haven't been able to forget burning bight.

"And you've been it this whole time, Santana Lopez." And her lip curls into that smirk, and then a smile. The one that warms your insides.

And just like that it's all ok.

And just like that you know, you know, you know.

You place your hand over her heart and feel it beating like crazy, like yours.

And when you lean in and kiss her again your heart, your patched up but not quite fixed heart, feels like it's finally mended.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Britt." You brush the tears off her face, feeling so much love burning for her.

"I love you, Santana. I love you. I've never loved anyone… but it's you."

"I love you, Brittany."

"I think I've loved you since the first time I saw you, I was just too stubborn to admit it, to believe it."

"But you believe it now."

"So much."

You kiss her again. Deep. Pouring everything you are into her.

And she meets you every step of the way.

And you're not scared anymore.

And you're not worried.

She's not the same person she was when you kissed the first time.

She's different.

She loves you.

She's giving you her heart to hold. Cherish. And she's accepting yours.

"I'll spend every moment, every moment of my life for as long as you'll have me, trying to give you the moon. The stars. Everything."

"Ditto, Britt."

And she's not bad news anymore.

She's just yours.

**Xx**

You wear blue to the next wedding you attend.

And something borrowed.

And white.

And when you see her, standing there waiting for you in that white dress, your whole being sings.

Your wildest dreams have come true.

And it still feels like magic.

But it's real.

**A/N: Yes, ok, before you ask this came about because of Taylor Swift. This song just sat in me, in my bones, and this is what happened. **


End file.
